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Updated: August 11, 2024
"And I don't mind telling you the late Colonel Brench Wybert left her a fortune made in Montana copper. Can't say how much, but two weeks ago she asked the governor's advice about where to put a spare million and a half in cash. Not so bad, eh?" "Oh, this new plutocracy! Where do they get it?" "How old, now, should you say she was?" Mrs.
Wybert would be, reminding her of that lady's generous hint about the rise in Federal Steel, which enabled me to net the neat little profit of ten thousand dollars a month ago, and how, but for that, we might have been acutely distressed. Yet she stubbornly clings to the notion that this marriage would be a mesalliance for the Milbreys." "I agree with her," replied his wife, tersely. Mr.
Wybert, when the fortune should be lost, had, after all, been an incident a means of showing the girl, if she should prove to be too deeply infatuated with Mauburn for her own peace of mind how unworthy and mercenary he was; for he had meant, in that event, to disillusion her by disclosing something of Mrs. Wybert's history the woman Mauburn should prefer to her.
He paced the floor while his matrimonial adviser tapped a white kidded foot on the floor, and appeared to read plans of new battle in a mother-of-pearl paper-knife which she held between the tips of her fingers. "I have it and we'll do it quickly! Mrs. Wybert!" Mauburn's eyes opened widely. "That absurd old Peter Bines has spoken to me of her three times lately.
Plainly she had nothing to fear from him. She became gracious. "It was only a little shopping tour, Mr. Bines, that and a call at the hospital, where they have one of my maids who slipped on the avenue yesterday and fractured one of her er limbs. Do sit down." Mrs. Wybert said "limb" for leg with the rather conscious air of escaping from an awkward situation only by the subtlest finesse.
An artist, in Uncle Peter's place, might have fancied that the colour scheme of the apartment cried out for a bit of warmth. A glowing, warm-haired woman was needed to set the walls afire; and the need was met when Mrs. Wybert entered. She wore a long coat of seal trimmed with chinchilla, and had been, apparently, about to go out. Uncle Peter rose and bowed. Mrs. Wybert nodded rather uncertainly.
He was thirty years old, and there was only one way for an English gentleman to live even if it must break the heart of a poor girl who had loved him devotedly, and for whom he had felt a steady and genuine affection. He passed a troubled night. Down at the hotel of Peter Bines was an intimation from Mrs. Wybert herself, bearing upon this same fortuity.
If the worst came, he could go West with the family and learn how to do something. And yet Mrs. Wybert. Of course it must be that. The other idea was absurd too wild for serious consideration.
Don't for heaven's sake sentimentalise! Go home and sleep like a rational creature. Come in by eleven to-morrow. Even without the title you'll be a splendid match for Mrs. Wybert, and she must have a tidy lot of millions after this deal." Sorely distressed, he walked back to his lodgings in Thirty-second Street. Wild, Quixotic notions of sacrifice flooded his mood of dejection.
Wybert laughed charmingly and relaxed in manner. "I'm with you, Mr. Bines. What about it, now?" "Now don't get suspicious, and tell me to mind my own business when I ask you questions." "I couldn't be suspicious of you really I feel as if I'd have to tell you everything you asked me, some way." "Well, there's been some talk of your marrying that young Milbrey. Now tell me the inside of it."
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